by Gina Wilkins
Perry laughed. “Unless you have a serious craving for either of those delightful places, maybe we’ll just drive into Raleigh.”
“Good choice,” she assured him.
At Perry’s urging, Kristin selected one of her favorite places, an upscale restaurant with an eclectic menu and an intimate, very comfortable atmosphere. No reservations were accepted, and there was usually a brief wait for a table, but patrons rarely minded waiting in the cheerful bar where talented local jazz bands played from a small stage.
Perry seemed to approve of her choice. He complimented the music they heard as they sipped white wine before dinner, and commented on the clever decor throughout the establishment. After being led to a table some twenty minutes after their arrival, he studied the menu with interest. “Fascinating,” he murmured.
“The management takes pride in presenting dishes that aren’t widely available elsewhere in this region,” she informed him, pleased that she seemed to have chosen well.
“No kidding. I’m having trouble deciding what to try.”
“My mother highly recommends the ostrich. I usually select from the seafood dishes. I love seafood.”
“Your mother sounds like an interesting woman.”
“She is definitely...different.”
Perry closed his menu and set it aside. “And what about you? Are you’different’?”
She shrugged and kept her eyes on the menu. “That depends on who you ask, I suppose. I tend to think of myself as rather ordinary.”
“Most of the writers I’ve met have considered themselves a bit eccentric. The moody, artistic types. You don’t have any creative quirks?”
“I suppose I have my share.” She was a bit relieved when a waiter arrived to take their orders. She’d never been comfortable dissecting her own psyche—artistic or otherwise.
After placing their orders, they studied each other across the table again. Since Perry seemed in no hurry to break the silence, Kristin felt compelled to do so. “You decided to trust my mother’s judgment?”
He nodded. “I haven’t had ostrich in a while. It should make a nice change from all the ‘rubber chicken’ dinners I’ve eaten lately.”
“It always seems to surprise first-timers that ostrich tastes more like beef than chicken or turkey,” she commented, simply to make conversation.
“You said you grew up in this area. Have you ever lived anywhere else?”
“I moved to Florida after I graduated from high school. I earned my degree at Florida State, then lived in Tampa for nearly four years. I moved back to Cutter’s Point after I sold my second book.”
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why do you choose to live in such a small town? Wouldn’t it be more convenient for you, careerwise, to live in New York?”
She shrugged. “I work with my editor by phone and fax, anyway. And I see my agent as often as necessary, which is only once or twice a year. I like the peace and quiet of Cutter’s Point.”
“Still, I would think the social opportunities would be rather limited.”
She smiled wryly. “I manage to entertain myself.”
“Is there a special man in your life who helps to keep you entertained?” he asked a bit too casually.
She lifted an eyebrow and answered succinctly. “No.”
“Still looking for one of those romance heroes, hmm?”
Kristin frowned. Something was definitely bugging him. What had she done to irk him? “I’m not necessarily looking for anyone. I’m perfectly happy with my life as it is.”
It was a good thing, she thought, that her meal hadn’t been served yet. She might well have choked on that lie. But it wasn’t her lack of a love life that was bothering her—not entirely, anyway. It was the difficulty she was having with her career—something she had no intention of discussing with Perry.
“So you don’t believe the guys in your books really exist? Those larger-than-life heroes who sweep the women off their feet and carry them away to live happily ever after?”
She phrased her answer carefully. “I certainly believe in happy endings, if you’re referring to successful marriages. I’ve seen many examples among my friends and relatives. And if you’d ever actually read one of my books, you would know that the heroes I create may be larger than life in some ways, but they also have very human flaws and vulnerabilities. Personal growth is part of the journey my characters undertake—they have to overcome their own problems, find their own fulfillment, before they are free to love each other fully. The women aren’t ‘carried away’ to find happiness. They find it for themselves.”
“In other words, they don’t need a man.”
She frowned. “They hope to find love, of course. Someone to share their lives with. Children. But they are capable of taking care of themselves.”
“And how much are your heroines like you?”
Again, Kristin was relieved when their conversation was interrupted. She kept her eyes on the table while their meals were placed in front of them, wondering how she could change the subject without being overly obvious. She didn’t usually mind talking about her work, but it was making her uncomfortable this evening. Mostly, of course, because her writing was giving her so much grief lately. But it was also because of Perry’s enigmatic undertone—that funny feeling that there were reasons for his questions she couldn’t quite understand.
Fortunately, Perry seemed to sense her reluctance to continue their former conversation. They made small talk during dinner, Perry entertaining her with anecdotes about funny things that had happened to him on the campaign trail. He was quite amusing when he chose to be, and she found herself laughing out loud a time or two. He was most definitely a charmer, and she could enjoy his company—as long as he wasn’t delving into areas that were too painful to talk about at the moment. And as long as she kept in mind that charm was no indication of what lay beneath it.
“You lead a very exciting life,” she commented as they ate. “You must enjoy traveling and being around people.”
“Most of the time. There are times, however, when I crave peace and quiet. Solitude. That’s when I head for an island somewhere to chill out for a few days.”
“Do you get the chance to do that very often?”
“A couple of times a year. That’s all I usually need to recharge.”
She chuckled as an ironic thought occurred to her.
“What’s so funny?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I was just thinking that you and I lead almost opposite lives. Your job is very public, and you look for quiet and solitude when you vacation. I work in isolation, and I usually go to crowded conferences or to bustling cities for vacations. It just struck me as amusing.”
Perry didn’t seem to find her observation quite so funny. “There are things about our jobs that are similar. We both need promotion and publicity to get our products—your books and my clients—visible in the market. We both make our living by selling our ideas, which we hope will appeal to a large audience.”
“I hadn’t thought of it quite that way.”
Looking rather pleased with himself, he nodded. “I just thought I should point out that I’m not the only one who requires public attention to be successful at what I do.”
“Did I sound critical of your work?” she asked curiously. “If I did, it was unintentional. I said our lives are different, but I certainly wasn’t making a judgment of one being better than the other. Just...different.”
“So you don’t think I’m a shallow, publicity hungry media hound?”
There was definitely a note of challenge in his voice this time. She was almost certain she wasn’t imagining it. She must have said or done something to make him feel that she’d been judging him. She wished she knew what it was.
She phrased her reply carefully. “Obviously, I don’t know you very well, since we’ve only spent a few hours together. From what I’ve seen, you are both successful and happy in your career, and you s
eem to be quite popular among your associates. You’ve gone out of your way to be nice to me, and I admire the generous contribution of time and expense you gave to the literacy project. If you’re asking if my opinion of you has been generally positive during the short time we’ve known each other, the answer is yes.”
He laughed softly, ruefully, shaking his head. “Spoken like a consummate politician. If you ever decide to run for an office, let me know. It makes my job so much easier when my candidate knows how to answer questions with such tact.”
“You confuse me, Perry,” she confessed after a pause, wishing she knew just what was going on inside his head.
His left eyebrow shot up in an ironic expression. “That’s only fair,” he murmured, “because you have me totally baffled, Kristin Cole.”
She felt her eyes go wide with surprise. “I do?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t quite been able to figure you out yet. But,” he added, breaking into his patented, dimple-bracketed smile, “I haven’t stopped trying.”
Kristin cleared her throat. Something in his eyes made her nervous—as if he’d just issued a challenge she didn’t quite know how to prepare for. She turned her attention to finishing her meal, telling herself she was being fanciful again. Perry had come to town only to tie up the loose ends of their charity date. If he’d had something more in mind—and if that hadn’t changed during dinner—she would have to find a way to let him know there was no need to waste his time and charm.
Regardless of all the “opposites attract” stories she’d read and written, she and Perry were the most unlikely match she could imagine. And this was the absolute worst time for her to even consider getting involved with anyone. She was so distraught about her career and still smarting so badly over her last broken relationship that she simply couldn’t trust her own judgment. She needed time, and she needed to rebuild her confidence, in several areas.
She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted from that by another romance that seemed destined to end in heartache. No matter how delectable Perry Goodman looked when he smiled. No matter how appealing his dimples were. No matter how flattered she was that he’d gone to so much trouble to complete their interrupted date. No matter how many times she had replayed his kisses and tried—unsuccessfully—to convince herself they hadn’t really been the most spectacular kisses she’d ever experienced.
She peeked up from her meal to glance at him again. He was watching her, his dimples very much in evidence, his eyes warm enough to bring a faint flush of heat to her cheeks.
Okay, she thought with a silent gulp, so they had been amazing kisses. And, okay, so she wouldn’t mind sampling a few more of them. But she was strong enough to resist temptation when she knew it would only lead to regret.
At least, she hoped she was....
KRISTIN COLE FRUSTRATED Perry more than any woman he’d met in a very long time. He’d gone out of his way to charm her. How long had it been since he’d tried so hard—and since he’d had so little reward for his efforts?
Though she was pleasant-enough company, he still had the feeling that Kristin thought of him only as a diversion. If there was any sexual attraction on her part, she did a darned good job of concealing it. If she even remembered that he’d kissed her, it certainly didn’t show in her unreadable dark eyes when she studied him across the table.
Perry, on the other hand, had given a great deal of thought to those kisses. Wondering what the chances were that there would be more of them.
He had an uncomfortable suspicion that Kristin didn’t actually like him very much. He didn’t know why—he’d been on his very best behavior for her. Without undue vanity, he was aware that most people, particularly women, liked him—with the exception, of course, of political opponents. And several of them had admitted that they would like him very well if he was on their side.
Having grown accustomed to being the object of attention—and, okay, maybe more than a little spoiled by the adulation—Perry was having trouble resigning himself to giving up on Kristin. He liked her—why didn’t she reciprocate?
He thought of that character sketch he’d spied in her office. He’d thought at first she’d used him as a model for her hero, and he’d found that encouraging. But then he’d read on, finding words like cocky, self-absorbed and attention hungry on the list—and he’d hoped she’d written that list long before she met him.
But he still had a sneaky, uncomfortable suspicion that he was the model for her character...and that all those words described the way she saw him. How could he change her mind? And why was it becoming so important for him to try, when she’d given him so little encouragement? He’d never considered himself a glutton for punishment before.
Kristin initially hesitated about ordering dessert, but Perry urged her to indulge. “You said you had a light lunch.”
“True,” she said, visibly wavering. And then she capitulated. “They serve a wonderful key lime pie here. I’ll have that.”
“Sounds great.” Perry set his dessert menu aside and smiled at the waitress. “Make it two. I love key lime pie.”
The waitress returned his smile, a hint of flirtation in her voice when she replied, “I’ll make sure you get an extra-large slice, then.”
Kristin lifted an eyebrow as the waitress sashayed away. “Looks as though you’ve made another fan.”
He frowned. Just what did she mean by that? Was it another subtle dig? Or just an innocuous, teasing remark? He remembered something else he’d read on the character sketch for Nick O’Donnell. “Somewhat conceited. Accustomed to feminine attention.”
Did Kristin see him that way? Or, again, was he only imagining that Nick O’Donnell had been based on himself?
Before he could decide how to respond, her attention had already wandered. He followed her gaze and spotted an older couple across the room, holding hands on top of their little table and gazing at each other with soft, sweet smiles.
“They must be celebrating an anniversary,” he murmured, latching onto a subject he thought would appeal to Kristin. “Their fiftieth, maybe?”
Still watching the other table, she shook her ead. “He just gave her an engagement ring. She’s wearing it now.”
Perry glanced over his shoulder again, noticing the diamond glittering on the woman’s time weathered left hand. The pair had to be in their seventies, but they were gazing at each other like love-struck teenagers. Perry smiled and turned back to his own companion. Only to feel his smile fade when he spotted the dreaded notebook again. She’d pulled it out of her purse and was scribbling away rapidly. Were all writers so constantly on the lookout for usable tableaux?
She set the notebook aside when the waitress delivered their desserts. Perry’s was at least twice the size of Kristin’s, and delivered with a giggle. Kristin gave him a wry look. Perry felt his cheeks warm. It wasn’t as if he’d actively flirted with the waitress. He’d simply been nice to her. Other women responded to him-why didn’t Kristin?
Maybe he was being too subtle.
He took a bite of his pie. “Mmm. Tart, tasty and tempting. Like you,” he added with a lift of his eyebrows.
She looked at him as if he’d just pulled a quarter from his ear. “Do you have much luck with that line?”
“On occasion,” he answered ruefully. So much for that approach.
Kristin nodded thoughtfully and made another notation in her notebook.
As much as he hated losing, Perry wondered if it was time to concede defeat in his campaign to win Kristin Cole’s approval.
Optimist that he was, Perry chose to believe he’d made headway with Kristin during dessert. The treat served to put her in a mellow mood, and she even laughed aloud at a couple of his jokes.
Damn, but that little crinkle in her nose made him crazy. And the way her dark eyes sparkled when she laughed. And the slightest hint of a dimple just at the right corner of her mouth.
Maybe he wouldn’t conce
de defeat just yet, after all. Maybe she was just a little shy—a little slow to warm up to new guys.
She finally declared herself unable to eat another bite. “That really was a wonderful meal,” she said with a satisfied sigh. “Much better than the canned soup or cold sandwich I probably would have made for myself.”
“I enjoyed it, too. But that was due as much to the company as to the food.”
“You’re flirting again.”
“A little,” he admitted. “Do you want me to stop?”
“I suppose a little flirting never hurt anyone,” she said after a moment, her tone just coy enough to give him a bit more encouragement.
Perry paid for the meal, then escorted Kristin out to his rented car. He rested his hand at the small of her back as they crossed the parking lot. It rather amused him that he felt almost like a teenager again, smugly pleased that he’d found the courage to touch her—and that she was allowing him to do so.
He tuned the radio to soft, sultry music for the drive back to her house, leaving the volume low and intimate. He was already anticipating being alone with her again. Remembering the way she’d responded when he’d kissed her before, he couldn’t help wondering what she would do if—when-he kissed her again.
It seemed quite natural when she turned to him at her door and said, “Would you like to come in for coffee?”
“I’d love to,” he answered promptly. Things were definitely looking up.
He followed her into her kitchen, deliberately not looking at her office as he passed the open door. Leaning against a counter, he watched her as she prepared the coffee. “I like your kitchen.”
He’d admired it earlier while she’d changed for dinner. The kitchen had a comfortable, homey feel to it—dark oak cabinets, green granite countertops, wood floor, copper-bottomed pans and green plants in wicker baskets. Another wicker basket sat close to his elbow, filled with envelopes, coupons and scraps of paper. He could picture Kristin sitting at the island bar in this comfortable room with her coffee, reading the newspaper or her mail, watching the small television on the counter.